


Shadowhunter Poems

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friendship, Gen, I will be writting a fraywood poem bc I love my Sunshine lesbian and her Grumpy Gay Buddy ™, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, POV Second Person, Platonic Relationships, Poetry, i am anti clace anti clalec anti rizzy and anti climon, just so you know, poetry collection, so dont even ask
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: A collection of poetry ins[ired by Shadowhunters





	1. Jimon

He hated you at first.  
Your best friend had all his attention  
even though she  
liked his sister  
instead.

You stuck around,  
for her sake.  
But as a strange woman  
sinks her teeth into your neck,  
you begin to regret that decision.

You went back  
to the mysterious woman  
despite the warnings  
of her right-hand man.  
The one who saved you.

You don’t really remember  
anything  
of your death.

You woke up,  
_hungry._  
The blood bag  
thrown at your feet  
tasted like ambrosia,  
felt like it was sent  
from God himself.

You saw him first,  
before your best friend,  
before your new mentor.

As you ran,  
your thoughts raced alongside you.  
Your life was ruined.  
You were a monster,  
filthy, unclean.  
God would never accept you now.

The next time you saw him,  
you were desperate.  
The smell of his blood,  
something acrid and divine,  
would haunt you for days.

As you lived with the vampires,  
stuck in an old hotel until the sun died away,  
you missed him.  
The smile he gave when you rambled,  
his gentle laugh,  
his cocky attitude  
that hid fears of inadequacy.

Then he left.  
Stolen away by an evil man to save your friends.  
You felt empty as you watched  
him leave with the man  
who wanted you _dead_.

Fast forward a year  
and he’s back,  
treated like a monster, a traitor.  
They say he has demon blood.  
At least you have something in common.

He’s back but he’s broken,  
torn to pieces by the man  
that raised him, that ruined him.

He doesn’t sleep.  
You can smell it on him,  
the exhaustion bleeding  
over the inhuman smell he carries.  
He doesn’t really eat, either.  
He trains and cries to himself and  
hides his nightmares away from those who care.

It takes a while until you bite him.  
You tell him you almost killed him,  
_would have_ killed him,  
with blood dripping from your chin.,  
and he says he would have let you.

You never knew that  
five words could break  
a not beating heart.

When you feel sunlight  
gracing your skin  
and angel blood glowing  
deep in your stomach,  
you know you have to tell him.

It’s the first time he smiles  
in seven long months.

You’ve lost your foster mother,  
your chance at a normal life,  
you’ve lost everything you’ve ever known,  
can’t even step into the synagogue  
you grew up in,  
but at least you have him.

It’s a slow ride,  
bumpy and filled with roadblocks,  
but it’s a ride you’re ready for,  
one you wouldn’t trade for anything.

The brush of his lips on yours  
makes your heart almost start beating,  
steals the breath you don’t need.  
When he says, ‘I love you’,  
you nearly die a second time.

 He hated you at first.  
Now, he loves you.  
Life- or, unlife, you guess-  
is funny like that.  
Maybe God doesn’t hate you after all.


	2. Clizzy

Her brother really liked you.  
He was handsome,  
but she caught your eye.  
Her dark hair was better than his blonde,  
her brown eyes better than his blue-brown ones,  
her brown skin better than his pale.

She took you under her wing,  
showing you the ropes of a terrifying new society  
that you were now a part of.  
She showed you how to fight,  
how to make beauty a weapon,  
how to use your charm to your advantage.

She’s one of the only ones who trusts you.  
It turns out that your father is a monster,  
the reason why you outnumber other races.  
He wants Downworlders dead,  
your friends,   
_dead._  
She believes you when you say you’re not like him.

Turns out her brother is your brother,  
so you really dodged a bullet.

You learned the little things about her.  
She couldn’t cook.  
She loved her brothers more than anything.  
She refused to wear shoes with a heel shorter than seven inches.  
She wore the clothes she did mostly to bother her parents.  
Her youngest brother was the family favorite,  
her other brothers and her ignored by her parents.

When you meet her mom, you understand.  
The way she talked to the siblings,  
to your best friend,  
to _you_ …  
It takes everything you have to   
not slap the smug grin off her bitchy face.

You’re her date to her brother’s wedding.  
When he comes out spectacularly  
by kissing the High Warlock,  
you see the way her mother tightens like a spring.  
You feel her nails bite into your palm.

When your brother leaves, you’re both devastated.  
She grew up with him and you just met him,  
but he still means the world.  
Your father is an evil, despicable excuse of a man  
and the idea that your brother left with him to save you  
makes your heart ache.

You two get closer in the year when your brother is missing.

There’s a lot of drunk kisses and sad cuddling,  
reassuring each other that _  
he’s safe. He’s coming back._

Sometimes you don’t believe it.   
Sometimes you do.

She first kisses you when you’ve been training all day,  
both exhausted and crying.  
She tastes like sweat and desperation and lipstick.  
You quickly realize that it’s your new favorite flavor.

Her mother hates you.

You learn to not care.

She’s the one that comforts you the most when your mother dies.  
It’s her brother that kills her,  
but you don’t blame him.  
Really, you don’t.  
You blame the demon that made him.  
You hate that you have to stab her,  
but you do it to harm the demon instead.

Her addiction kills you.  
The way that she feels dependent on Yin Fen hurts,  
as if you’re the one getting bitten without the release.  
When she tells you about how her brother  
hurt the vampire she got her fix from,  
you didn’t feel bad for him.

You learn to love the lipstick prints she leaves on your cheeks.  
There’s something flattering about her black hair against your orange,  
the way your dark freckles match her skin tone.  
She kisses the scars lacing your body,  
whispering words of praise,  
telling you you’re a goddess and deserve _better._

You think that you can learn to believe her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the weird stanza order my autistic ass can't form coherent thoughts


	3. Malec

You learned from a young age to hide who you are.  
You knew that you didn’t like girls.  
You learned that you liked boys when  
you met _him_ ,  
the small orphan boy that your family took in.  
But, alas, he’s your _Parabatai,_  
and your brother.  
You only like him because he’s a   
‘safe’ crush.

Your world crumbles when you meet him.  
It was supposed to be simple,  
if anything could be simple in this world.  
Just trade a necklace for information  
from the High Warlock of Brooklyn.  
Piece of cake.  
Just another Wednesday.

Except it wasn’t.

The moment you laid eyes on him,   
your heart _stopped._  
He was wearing a gaudy, patterned blazer  
and obscenely tight pants,  
as well as thick makeup that you can see  
from across the club.  
You wish you didn’t have to come.

Seeing him fight next to you was something else entirely.  
He seemed aloof when you first met in the club,  
but when you’re in his loft fighting demons,  
there’s an _air_ about him, danger pouring off him in waves.  
It’s suffocating.  
You want to drown in the feeling.

He calls you ‘Pretty Boy’ and you want to die.

You know your sister will never let you live this down,  
the gentle blush on your cheeks,  
your bashful smile,  
the jolt of your spine when he grabs your hand.  
The way he flirts with you only fuels her more.

The shock that runs through you when   
he takes your energy  
to help the Alpha  
is enough to bring your dead heart to life.  
You hold him with your body,  
caressing him with everything you have.  
At least you have an excuse.

You come up with very excuse you can to stay with him,  
offering to clean even though he could do it with the snap of his fingers.  
You don’t like mixed drinks but you like him  
so you take the glass he offers you   
and you at least _try_ to drink it.

Your sister doesn’t believe you when you say  
nothing happened when you stayed at his house.

He’s relentless.

You try to avoid him,  
because you know what you feel is wrong,  
you know you can never have him,  
because you’re a Shadowhunter  
and he’s a Downworlder,  
not to mention you’re both men.

Still, he calls you, asks for you.  
Your siblings don’t help,   
opting to send you to see him.

You agree to get married for your own sake.  
If you have a wife, you can’t have him.  
It’s saving your own ass.  
She knows it, but she’s too happy   
about the Institute to care.

He flirts with you one last time before you shut him down.  
Your heart is hammering in your ears  
and your stomach is roiling,  
your skin burning where he touches you.  
He says that he knows that you feel what he feels  
and you know he’s telling the truth   
but you deny it anyway.

He agrees to leave you alone.

You notice that he starts wearing dark clothes  
once you reject him.  
A twang of guilt stabs through your chest  
but you push it aside.  
You’re engaged.  
You have to forget him.

Then your sister fucking invites him to your wedding.

You’re literally drawing the wedded union rune on her  
when he throws the doors open.

And god damn, does he look beautiful.

Your mother tries to stop him,  
but he shuts her off with a few words.  
He puts it in your hands.  
He’ll leave if you tell him to.

Your heart literally stops for a solid second  
before going into overtime.  
You can’t breathe.  
You’re vaguely aware that you’re speaking out loud  
but you can’t stop it.  
Your fiancé smiles at you and tells you it’s okay.  
You can see in her eyes that it isn’t.

You don’t mean to walk towards him but you do,  
your legs carrying you of their own volition.  
Your mother tries to stop you,  
but you silence her with a word.  
She’s never listened to you like that before.

Your hands grab his lapels without your permission  
and suddenly he’s pressed to your chest,  
his hands coming to rest at your waist.  
And then you’re kissing,  
so fiercely that it hurts your mouth.  
He tastes like concealer, booze, and something else entirely  
that you can’t place.   
Somehow you know it’s just him.

He looks gorgeous when you pull away.  
His lips are parted, and he follows your mouth for a moment.  
His lips are red and slick and he’s breathless,  
the air in his lungs stolen by you.  
You feel proud to have reduced such a dignified man to _this_.  
_You_ did _this._

Your mother doesn’t look you in the eye for three months.

Your relationship is rocky at best.  
You talk out your problems-  
learned from your parents’ mistakes that   
communication is priceless-  
but there are problems.  
Of course there are.

Still, every time you kiss him or he kisses you  
there’s a fire that sparks on your spine,  
something that keeps you alive,  
that makes you want to live.

 _He_ makes you want to live.

He helps as much as he can when your brother goes missing.  
It hurts, more than anything.  
He’s a part of you, more so than anything else.  
He is your other half, literally.  
He’s in pain and scared and lonely and you’re helpless and it _hurts_  
like you’ve been stabbed,  
like something has been ripped out of you and thrown away.

There’s something terrible about not knowing if he’s alive.  
You love him- of course you do- and you don’t know where he is.  
The Soul Sword went off and that means almost certain death to Downworlders and you can’t help but remember what your boyfriend is.  
No one knows where he is.  
You’re alone and terrified and you don’t know what to do.

You finally find him, after _hours_ of goddamn agony.  
You never want to feel like this again,  
never want to fear for his life,  
never want to fear for your own because of him.  
Having him in your arms feels like _home._

The words ‘I love you’ slip from your mouth as easily as his name.  
The way his eyes shine when he says it back makes your resolve crumble.  
As you kiss him you know  
that he’s yours and you’re his.

You love him.   
He loves you.

There’s something nice about being able to say that.

You’re never letting anyone hurt him  
and he’ll never let anyone hurt you.  
You’ve vowed to protect each other and you know he’ll   
keep that promise with his life.

You finally sleep for the first time in months.


	4. Clary & Simon

You were an only child-  
or so you thought.  
You grew up alone,  
just you and your mother  
and her ‘friend’.

You met him in kindergarten.  
He was nerdy  
and he talked too much  
and he repeated himself.  
No one liked him.

Except for you.

You two grew close,  
becoming thick as thieves  
before middle school.  
You were always there for each other.

He comforted you when you found out you were a lesbian,  
and whenever you and your mom fought.  
You helped him when he liked his first boy,  
and whenever his mom drank because of his dad’s death.  
You accompanied him to the synagogue  
and you were there for his Bar Mitzva.  
He was there for all your birthdays  
and he celebrated Yule and Beltane with you.  
You were each other’s support blanket.

Then, disaster struck.

It was your 18th birthday.  
You went to one of his shows,  
ignoring the burn of his eyes  
as he looked at you  
like you hung the stars in the sky.  
Afterwards, you hit Pandemonium.  
The flashing sign showing the word  
DEMON  
means so much more, now.

Seeing the blonde boy,  
and what happened in the back room,  
couldn’t prepare you for what waited for when she got home.

You told your mom, expecting her to laugh in your face  
or tell you that you had been drugged.  
Something.  
_Anything_.  
Instead, she asked you about the blonde boy.

When she showed you the markings on her arm,  
and the way she could easily hide them using that _thing_ ,  
that Stele, your blood ran cold.  
You were certain that this was a prank.  
Nothing more.

It was so much more.

She gave you a necklace  
and then Dot was pushing you through  
a portal and you were at the police station.  
You overheard Luke, broke down, and ran.

Your house was trashed.  
And burning.  
You couldn’t breathe,  
too busy sobbing and crying out for your mother.

You were attacked by something that looked like Dot…  
and then didn’t look like Dot.  
The blonde boy saved you.  
Then you passed out.

It was a long few months.  
It turns out that getting used to an entirely new society  
was harder than it sounds.  
You barely got to see him.

He died.  
_He died,_ and all of a sudden,  
the world you had built was crashing down around you.  
The vampire brought him to you,  
the name _Camille_ biting his tongue  
as he explained the situation.

You either buried him to bring him back as a vampire,  
or you drive a stake through his heart.

You decided that you couldn’t leave without him,  
so you buried him, wrapped in his _Tallit._  
He came back within minutes,  
_hungry_ and confused.  
He ran.

At the very least,  
you were both caught up in this crazy world,  
together.


	5. The Lightwood Siblings

There are four of you.

The oldest is a tall boy  
who feels shorter  
because of the weight of the Institute   
on his shoulders.  
He’s spent years hiding who he really is,  
hiding who he loves,  
but not anymore.  
He can’t anymore.

Next is the odd man out,  
the grown-up version  
of the ten year old boy  
who got dumped on the family  
when his psychotic father died.  
He was never one of them,  
according to their parents.

The only girl is a force to be reckoned with,  
someone with weaponized beauty   
who would kill anyone who hurts her brothers-  
even their parents.  
She’s never been good enough,  
never can be good enough,  
and their parents hate her partners.

Finally, they have the youngest,  
wise beyond his years  
and incapable of doing wrong.  
Their parents love him  
above the others,   
hold him to lower standards  
so that he can never fuck up.

The youngest is always gone.   
Sent away to different Institutes  
to learn and get out of his parent’s hair.  
They leave the oldest in charge,  
telling him to make the best decision  
and then belittling him because of it.

As soon as the middle boy does anything wrong,  
they’re ready to throw him to the wolves,  
ready to give him the blame   
and telling him,  
‘ _carry this. You earned it.  
This is your cross to bear.’_

They never approve of anything the girl does.  
They hate her partners,  
saying it isn’t right for women to love women  
or for Shadowhunters to love Downworlders.  
She’s learned to not listen.  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm bimonlewis on Tumblr! Come bug me!


End file.
